Red Hot Lies
by Meriah
Summary: After transforming to create a human identity, Mewtwo meets a prostitute with secrets behind her façade. Intrigued, he desires to learn more about her... but she is playing the same game. And just why does Mewtwo hoard body-bags and medical supplies?


**Disclaimer: **I do not claim ownership of _Pokémon_, which is the creation and/or property of: Satoshi Tajiri, Ken Sugimori, Nintendo, the Pokémon Company, GAME FREAK, Creatures, TV Tokyo, ShoPro, Jr. Kikaku, and Shogakukan Production Co, Ltd. I did not write this story to earn money (although that would be helpful, haha) or to violate copyrights. This story is only for me and for those who enjoy _Pokémon_-themed fanfiction.

**Format Note:** Please read this in the 1/3 story format, as it otherwise looks disorderly. Thank you.

**Rating Note:** Rated M (Mature). If you are under-age or are sensitive to mature themes, I suggest that you click the Back button now. The content in this story includes, but is not limited to: profanity and other strong language, substance abuse, sexuality, and violence. Consider this a fair warning!

**Detailed Summary: **It was not the indigo eye shadow or leather miniskirt that attracted him to her, but the untold history behind her façade. After a chance encounter, Mewtwo – creating an identity as a human through mastering Transform – was stunned by the scarlet-haired prostitute. Yet as his interest evolves into obsession over learning her secrets, little does he realize that she is playing the same game…

And why does Mewtwo have body bags and medical supplies, anyway?

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><p><strong>P R O L O G U E:<strong>

**The Flame is Gone, The Fire Remains**

It was dark that night, absent of any celestial bodies. Usually the moon gazed down upon Mewtwo, granting him companionship to soothe his loneliness. Yet now it had fled, branding him an outcast among the dark silhouettes of the woods.

He thought about love, such a cruel and deceiving concept... a glass of ambrosia with hidden poison.

To him, love was not the tantalizing, gentle essence captured in the kiss of a teenage couple. It could not be defined by lyrics, nor can it be expressed through the pen of a poet. Love was a dormant energy waiting to awaken, like a fault line beneath the city. Or perhaps was his twist of pain and pleasure.

Love – the ultimate paradox: strength and weakness, both carved by trust. With it comes strength because one is no longer alone in the roads of life, as he or she has given and returned devotion. The two people are drawn together as a single flame; one is the heat and the other is the oxygen.

And for him, love was also a weakness due to that reason. Vulnerability was required in love, and it could smother that same flame. It could return darkness to the spirit and lead to the downfall of anyone. And it could make oneself crave a bottle, a needle, a gun – any addiction to replace the one most powerful of all. Mewtwo know this because it happened to _her_, the woman who made and destroyed him.

The pokémon flinched as an image of the woman sparked in his mind. He never chose to feel for her; it simply happened. That was the power of love, the blessing and curse, as it arrives even when unwanted. Love came to him and her as the ocean meets a volcano, formulating new earth – creating new aspects of them while taking away others. It was horrendous yet attractive in that way.

Oh, yes, he never intended to love her, nor did she intend to love him. He never thought their conversations would transform into longing, never expected their meetings would lead to passionate nights.

They never predicted her lips would meet his neck as he searched the valley between her thighs…

Did I use her? Maybe... unintentionally.

Did she use me? Maybe... intentionally.

But that is the venom that comes with love.

He treasured her and would for the rest of his days. The colors of autumn illustrated her features. Her voice serenaded all of him, reaching to his core. Her silhouette was gilded by the firelight when she touched him.

Her hands were the first he had ever felt. And they would be his last.

In his memories, sometimes he watched her sleep, her body caught in some foreboding dream. Tears fell down her face, staining the pillow, as fear quaked through the both of them. They knew what was to come…

Why did she... why...?

Then, in that moment...

A tremendous pain pounded in his head. His hands fell over the area as his legs buckled beneath him. Migraines. They began some time ago and always came when his memories resurfaced.

He was unaware of when his ardent feelings were born. If they arrived suddenly or slowly was beyond his knowledge. What he could say, however, was that they became as vital to him as the blood that flowed within his vessels. The woman's companionship completed and controlled him. It is as if she was always part of his life, although the truth is their time together was fleeting.

Yes, Mewtwo lusted for her, but that was not the primary emotion. She was alluring, despite her scars and frequent bloodshot eyes. Yet above all, it was her perceptions of the world which captivated him. Sometimes they walked the sprawling city for hours in conversation, and he always craved to learn more.

Did she lust for him? Of course.

Their feelings for one another became their plague. Aware of their sins and our crimes, they awaited their retributions from a questionable God and their disapproval from society. They were sinners, fools, whatever negative label. Mewtwo thought about this, usually with his eyes turned away from his woman. She instead she laughed, "Don't worry about it! What does it matter what _they_ think?"

After losing her, Mewtwo had tried forget her by relocating to another city to start anew. With his cloak as his only possession, it concealed him from the tragedies of mankind as well as his own insecurities. He was accompanied by only two wraiths: usually the moon, sometimes the wind.

Sometimes he still pondered what could have happened if events transpired in a different fashion. She offered him a glimpse of heaven. He certainly would have been happier in the present, not bound by damnation as he currently felt. Yet he knew they were best apart, freed from their illusions.

Analyzing all of this, he realized that love is something that is unbridled; it can never be tamed. No one will ever understand its workings, and no one will ever be sure if it is generated through fate or biochemicals. All he knew is that what he felt – and indeed, what he still feels.

The moon came into view from behind the clouds. Mewtwo's companion in the night, it cast somber lights below as if it understood him. Also not allowed to love, the closest it could reach the tides was an endless waltz from so far away.

He looked up at the luminous sphere, and confessed to his only friend: _I loved her – I loved Scarlet. And I love her still. I wish these emotions never consumed me. But it would be a lie to act as if she meant nothing. My love will always be there._

Yes, his love for her still burned.

The flame is gone.

But the fire remains.

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><p><strong>End Notes: <strong>The story begins to take substance in the next installment (Chapter One). Remember, this was only the prologue. I hope it caught your attention enough to want to continue reading!

And Abby, thanks for the suggestion about converting the prologue from first to third-person. You're right, it flows better and doesn't sound so sappy.**  
><strong>

**Disclaimer:** The following lines are by the amazing band "The Dear Hunter".

"Her hands were the first I had ever felt."

"The flame is gone, the fire remains."


End file.
